


Midnight Dark

by mistressterably, TheCapaldianEmpress01



Category: Peter Capaldi - Fandom
Genre: F/M, RPF, Scottish Actor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressterably/pseuds/mistressterably, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCapaldianEmpress01/pseuds/TheCapaldianEmpress01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Capaldi.</p><p>Vampire.</p><p>Be careful what you ask for.</p><p>Victims.  Aren't we all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistressterably](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressterably/gifts).



> Peter Capaldi Biscuit Society prompt...

He was hanging. Not by the neck, of course, but just hanging. Arms outstretched, slightly above his head...and, on his knees. He'd been caught, he knew that much, and now, captured and chained. 

He licked his lips slowly, grimacing at their dryness. Opening his mouth more, he ran his tongue over his teeth...he smiled inwardly.

Fangs. 

The reason he'd been chased, hunted, captured.

And, chained.

If one is going to be hunted, one better have a bloody damn good reason to be...

Peter Capaldi.

Vampire.

One insanely hot, chained up vampire.

Let that sink in for a moment...


	2. Something Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's waiting.
> 
> He's hungry.

A light seemed to come out of nowhere at him, causing his already hunger weakened body to jerk. 

The sun? No, if had been, he'd be ash by now...

Peter's eyes opened slightly to see what the light was. When he focused on it, a deep growl rose in his throat...

A mere lamp, dim, but offensive, stared back at him.

Humans and their foolish notions.

Peter had been human. Once. A long time ago. Quite possibly the sexiest human ever, but still human.

Peter Capaldi. Vampire. And the sexiest one out there.

Chained up...his hands gripped the chains, and rattled them. Oh, imagine how the ladies would love to see him now! Like this. On his knees, helpless...they'd cum on themselves just thinking about it.

He ran his tongue over his fangs again, smiled and growled deeply. Just visualizing one of them wandering in now...

His hunger flared up...blood...theirs...he wouldn't last much longer...

Then, the other hunger engulfed him. One of them...two of them. Maybe, even three...he'd allow all of them to work him over...

Peter's head went back, and he screamed...he needed both hungers to be sated...

One of them would wander in...when they did...

Lust was lust...blood, or otherwise, and Peter's lust was both. He could satisfy them at the same time...


	3. ...this way comes

The rustling noise caught his attention. It seemed to fill the entire room, but then again, his hearing was far superior now.

What room was this? Was it a room? Where exactly had he been brought to? A mere room couldn't, shouldn't, have chains...

Peter opened his eyes again, cringing at the light. 

No, it wasn't a room.

It was a dungeon, a crypt...it was a cold stone expansive dungeon with all the toys a dominant entity could wish for.

He heard the rustling again, this time much closer to him. So close, he could feel the vibrations as they moved across the stone floor.

It made his skin tingle violently.

He lifted his head and took stock of his exact position. Centre of the dungeon...surrounded by what looked to be more chains and ropes. They circled him...

The ones that held him in place glowed slightly, and each time he shook them, their glowing increased.

Not to mention...

Peter tested the chains...pulling a bit on them...the glow increased...

...and so did the electric tingling throughout his weakened body.

That was familiar. This whole scenario was. He looked down at what he was wearing...

He laughed softly. Plaid pants, zip up hoodie, those two t-shirts, black boots, and a black, scarlet lined crombie coat.

Wait, this was definitely very familiar...where had this happened before?

He laughed again.

"Oh yes, THAT..."

The rustling stopped in front of him now. A hand reached down, cupping his chin, and tilted his head up. 

"Ah, Peter..."

He stared wide eyed.

"You!"

"Aye, me."

Peter's skin tingled more at the voice. Or, was it the electric shocks that kept happening? He wasn't certain 

He stared in confusion.

"I thought...you...I left you..."

"For dead? No, you know exactly what you left me for...as..."

He swallowed hard.

"No, no, no..."

She, for it was a woman, laughed and cupped his chin harder, forcing his mouth to open. Leaning towards him, she smiled slowly.

Peter growled softly.

"You can't be..."

She laughed again.

"Aye, but I am your handy work. You created me...Peter Capaldi, Master...Vampire."

He growled again.

"I left you..."

"In this crypt, my crypt. You came...you saw.. you sucked me dry...then, you came, again...aye, you left me craving you...so, that would make me..."

Peter jerked on the chains.

"Make you, what?"

She leaned closer, her lips brushing over his his, he snarled at her touch.

"Your first victim from the Hangar." She let go of his chin, stepped back, throwing her arms out wide. 

"Surely, you remember your Hangar, Peter?! You remember me...first victim of the new you...that you found in the crypt..."

Peter glared hard at her.

"Aye." His blue eyes regarded her for a moment. "You were so willing, my love..."

She nodded.

"For you, the great Peter Capaldi, I would be willing..."

"Aye..." His Scottish accent was heavy and thick. "Mine."

She stepped back to him, her fingers ghosting over his face and lips. He opened his mouth willing, his tiny fangs visible now. He could taste her...just a small taste...

"I hunger..." It came out in a strangled moan.

She smiled, bit her middle finger, and inserted it between his lips. Peter groaned deeply as he sucked her finger hungrily, his body arched towards her.

She moved back.

"Tsk, tsk, Peter...you're a greedy fuck, aren't you? Want the whole thing right now! But..." She let her finger brush his tongue erotically. "You will hunger still..."


	4. Waiting in the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's that in the corner of your eye.. hiding out of sight..

Red lips became moistened by the tip of her tongue. She could sit in the shadows for as long as she wanted to until the time was right. For now, watching him hung there was enough. When his creature entered, her eye arched slightly. The next generation. It would be interesting to see if she were worthy of the gift he had shared with her.

Peter had been impulsive in his choice, she always thought. Unlike how she had selected him. Watching him work, the choices he had made over the years. Oh, she had watched him for some time before approaching him that last night of his humanity. That day when the news had been announced that he was leaving the Doctor Who role behind. Then she made her move. Her lips twitched at the corners with the memory of that first night. She had made sure to thread into him the equal need for both the blood and the lust. Peter had taken to it so easily. Thinking she were mortal until that precious moment when he was so very close to orgasm and her fangs had dropped to pierce his tongue at the right moment. Blood and semen flooding her at the same time. Just as she had pierced her own tongue for him to drink of her just as she had orgasmed herself. Oh yes, he was forever going to need both fed on a regular basis.

Now, he had unwittingly chosen his own creation from a mortal coven that enjoyed hardcore sex and bondage. The dominatrix no less. Impulsive, she thought, and careless. He ran the risk of becoming the lesser to his own creation. And his creation was fixated on his characterization of the Time Lord. What good a Time Lord when you have a true immortal to play with, she shrugged mentally. Perhaps she should have kept him on a closer leash but this was more fun. After all, if he wound up being destroyed by this new creature, she could always step in and take control of her easily. 

Her own fangs dropped at the sight of the blood on the dominatrix's finger. That and the iron tang that filled her sense of smell with the undertones of arousal found her eyes drilling into the dimly lit room. The electric glow meant little to her. Only direct sunlight bothered her. A soft mental laugh ran through her head as she watched. The dominatrix was definitely in her element, letting him suckle just enough from her finger to build his need and desire. With the flickering light, she could not only sense his burgeoning arousal but also see the bulging fabric of his trousers. Oh yes, she thought, this new-made creature of his was definitely more than a match for him. She anticipated his hunger growing to limits he had never imagined previously. Peter was in for a ride that was either going to leave him an empty husk or stronger than he could ever have thought himself capable of.


	5. What Is Done Cannot Be Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cannot do something  
> You cannot.

Another tiny jolt of electricity rippled through him, causing him to rise up off his knees. He gripped the chains tightly in his hands.

"Please..." Peter pleaded. "You can't keep doing this...please..."

"Aye, but I can." She bit her finger again, holding it out to him, but withdrew it almost immediately.

He growled softly. 

"Oh stop, Peter. You don't scare me...you can't frighten your creation with your posturing. Your pleading is bad enough."

"Sus..." He whispered.

She crouched down in front of him, her cool gaze appraising his form. Twinning her long fingers into his silver curls, she jerked his head forward. It should have hurt...should have...

But for Peter, it did the exact opposite.

He was already aroused by her blood...by her...he could taste her...wanted to taste her again...

She smiled slowly at him, her own sharp, tiny fangs winked at him.

He needed more, wanted more. Her blood screamed for him, just as his body screamed for her...

"Do not use that name again..." She snarled, gripping his hair harder. "She died that night."

Peter stared at his creation. What she said was true...

"I know, my love."

"Oh do you? Aye, you should, being as it was you, who was her demise." She leaned in close to his ear. "I loved you, Peter..."

He shivered at her words. They all loved him, but this one? She had loved him more. She had waited in this very crypt for him...waited as he satisfied his needs with the others. She was the last of them...

She smiled again.

"I did wait, didn't I? Oh I did! Waited while you fed from them, fucked them...I waited in this stone room while ...you thought you had had all of your women in the Hangar..." She yanked his head back, her lips against his throat. "You didn't know I was down here until they mentioned me. That redhaired dominatrix in her crypt..."

Peter growled impatiently.

"I knew!"

She laughed against his neck, the points of her fangs dragged over his skin...he arched his aroused body against hers. 

"You knew...imagine that! The great Peter Capaldi knew I existed! You knew, and yet, you made me wait..."

"It wasn't time for us..." He rested his head against hers. "I came to you in the end, my love..."

For a moment she said, nor did, nothing. Then, he felt her fangs sink into his neck, and it sent his arousal off the charts.

"Aaaaaa...my love...please..." Peter hung limply from his chains, his aching body was burning. "I'm weak...I can't..."

She pulled away and studied his pale, yet still flushed, face. Leaning in, she kissed him roughly, the tip of her tongue running over his fangs. 

He groaned heavily. She murmured softly.

"You hunger..."

"Aye..." His accent thick and warm against her lips.

She pulled away abruptly and stood. He lifted his head, gazing up at her hungrily.

"Perhaps, despite everything, I could satisfy at least one of your lusts..."

Peter's eyes narrowed. 

"Just one?"

"Aye, just one, Master..." She stood before him, her legs bare, and put a foot up to rest on his shoulder. He was now gazing longingly at her inner thigh.

He felt both hungers erupt anew. How could she give him just the one, and tempt him with the other? 

The exact same way he had. He had come to her, taken the one, and withheld the other...

Peter rubbed his cheek against her skin, he felt her tremble slightly at this, but continued nonetheless. He was hungry, he was impatient, he was aroused to the point of madness...

He sank his fangs into her thigh greedily, growling when her fingers entwined in his hair, urging him on. 

"My love..." She moaned as he fed from her. "I am yours..."

Peter's own moan at these words urged him on even more...he was so close to the other hunger...

The sound of a heavy door opening caught her attention. She pressed Peter's head closer, he grunted at the intrusion.

"Aye, Carl?"

A tall, dark haired man stepped up beside her. His gaze going to Peter feeding, then back to her. He sighed heavily.

"The peasants are restless, Mistress." He looked at Peter again, the longing now evident on his face.

She shuddered, pulled Peter away, leaned down and kissed his blood smeared lips.

"I will follow momentarily, Carl...when I am finished here."

The man nodded, bowed slightly, and retreated out the door.

She looked down at her creator, her Master...the man she had waited for...

"I'll return later, but for now..." She kissed him again, deeply, passionately. She moved her lips to his ear, whispering softly. "Think of the other hunger, Peter...think of how you wish to bury your cock inside me, just like you buried your fangs. Think of that when you feel that electric jolt...think of that...as you hang here and scream.."

He jerked on the chains hard, his body aching to get to her...

"I'm already imagining it, my love..."

She smiled at him, her fingers ghosting over his lips and up into his hair. She turned and walked to the door, her hand gripping the knob. She looked off into the shadows, a slow grin upon her face.

"I know you're there..." She opened the door. "I hope you enjoyed my playtime with your creation?"

The Cryptmistress laughed softly, then sighed.

"I love him still..."


	6. Admission

Peter tugged hard on the chains that held him. 'Face me, bitch!' He threw his head from side to side trying to see her in the shadows. The light in the room threw off his sight. 'Set me free.' Peter demanded of his creator. Still out of his line of sight, he could hear her footsteps on the concrete floor. 'Do I mean that little to you?'

She still said nothing but he could sense her standing immediately behind him, a leather booted foot against his leg. Her sharp nailed finger traced a line from the nape of his neck down to the collar of his torn t-shirt. He arched his back towards her touch. Then her hand went round his neck to squeeze hard, making him freeze in a panic. Her hands were an ice-cold. 

'You made me. You stalked me! You said you planned my creation for years! That means something doesn't it?' Peter was begging her now. 

'Tiny fangs and tiny balls.' Her voice was a mere whisper in the damp cellar. 

'Set me free, I'll pay whatever price you want.' 

The hand tightened around his neck to silence him. 'Hush, little one.' Her lips were beside his ear. 'Begging is for mortals. Unless that's what you wish to be again.'

'No!' Peter swallowed hard, aghast at the thought of losing what he had so recently gained. 

'Why should I free you, little one?' Her nail traced down the length of his pulsing artery making him shudder. 'Your pet appears to be the real master here.'

'She isn't the master. I am!' Peter argued and struggled in the chains.

Her laugh was loud in the crypt. Only then did she step in front of him. The tight leather outfit she wore was the same one she had worn when she had created him and he felt the growl of hunger escape his throat. His eyes followed her as she strode over to the display of whips, paddles and other assorted means of punishment and pleasurable torture. Her sharp nails, painted in black, danced over the handles until she selected an ornately knotted cat of nine tails made of blood red leather. Lifting it from it's place, she stroked it as if stroking an aroused penis and looked in Peter's eyes. He swallowed hard at the sight. 

'Set me free.' Peter asked, still with a begging note in his voice.

'You've not answered my question, little one.' She strode over to him again and gazed into his eyes with a simmering passion. This was not the same passion the Cryptmistress had shown him. This was the passion of control. The leather knots pressed against his chest through his t-shirt. 'Why...' the cat moved over his chest and up towards his throat as she asked again. 'Should I...' Under his chin now, lifting him up to meet her gaze. 'Set you ...' It dug into his skin. 'Free?'

'Because I am your creature.' Peter said through gritted teeth.

Her laugh echoed again, drilling into his skull. 'I made you.. I could just as easily unmake you!' Peter went pale at the sound of her words. 'Drain you as completely as I drain any mortal I wish to.' She turned her back on him and gestured in the air. A middle aged woman strode through the door. Peter choked at the sight of one of the other women that he had pleasured earlier. Before the Cryptmistress. His creator only needed to crook a finger for the woman to step closer to stand in front of Peter. Her eyes were glazed over as she was entirely under his creators control. A black-painted nail pulled the woman's red-dyed hair away from her neck. 

'No, don't.' Peter spoke quietly. 'They're innocent. Leave them be. No one dies here!'

Her eyes were hard as they bore into him. 'Innocent? Evil? Does that matter to me? No. Nor should it matter to you.' Her nail dug hard into the woman's artery, blood flowed down the woman's skin. Without breaking her gaze from her creation, her lips latched onto the hot flesh and she drank deeply until the woman's eyes closed a last time. The emptied corpse fell to the floor. With another gesture of her fingers, the Cryptmistress' servant, Carl, came in the room and gathered the body in his arms and left with the barest of looks at Peter. Her tongue licked slowly over her lips, catching the remaining drops of blood up. 'That is what you do to mortals. You feed on them. Are you a mortal still?'

'No!' Peter quailed. Where was the Cryptmistress!?! He was frightened of his own creator. 

'Why should I set you free?' She asked again. 

'Because I need to show her... ' Peter began and bit his own lip and he hung his head. The cat of nine tails was still in her grasp, the leather boots shone against the concrete floor. He could only feel her intent gaze on him. 

She waited on him to gather his thoughts. It was easy for her to pick up the sound of the Cryptmistress' feet on the stairs leading to the Crypt. The mortal servant would have alerted her. This could be more fun than she thought. Peter was defeated already, she sneered at him. She lifted the cat up to his chin, lifting his face up. Behind her, she felt the slight disturbance of the air as the door opened. 

'I need her.' He whispered. 'Need her blood and her sex. Her soul.'

Chuckling, 'Her soul? You already stripped her of that. Just as I stripped you of yours, little one. Her blood? Suck her dry and pull the vampirism back into yourself and grow stronger from her. Her sex? Fuck her as you drain her. Just as I pumped your cock empty as I made you. What do you need from her?' She was close to his face, her breath dry and hot against him.

'I need her to be by my side for eternity.' Peter admitted to himself. 'You planned my turning. You wanted me to be your equal. I'm not. I never will be. But I can be hers!'


	7. Be Careful What You Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I only could make a deal with god...

She stood back in the shadowy depths of her crypt, watching, listening. She hadn't been summoned, but she had been alerted by her servant to the events below.

She had known his Creator was there the whole time. Had seen what had taken place...had heard him pleading...begging...feeding. It wasn't as if she cared, she didn't, but she had been spied upon in as very intimate position.

She had admitted she loved him. Even told him so...what good a submissive to their dominant, if they went about screaming to the heavens that they loved them?

What good really?

Now here she stood, watching this particular scene unfold before her...

Peter's Creator was very much the dominate here...he had begged her to set him free, pleaded for an innocent life, yet where had it gotten him? He was still on his knees, chained...

She moved closer, still in the shadowy depths, but closer. 

He was afraid.

And, his Creator had merely laughed at his pleading! Threatened to undo what he was...drain him back to mortal. Albeit a dead one, but mortal nonetheless. 

His Creator had questioned him further. What did he want with the Cryptmistress? She was his pet? Was she the dominant in this, or was he? 

She laughed to herself. Her, dominating Peter? Hardly...

She stepped closer still, until she stood directly behind his Creator. She stared at her back coolly, almost willing her to turn. When the other woman did, the Cryptmistress smiled carefully, slowly. They acknowledged each other briefly...it was yet another of the old pleasantries associated with humans...best to get it over and done with.

Then she heard her own Creator's admission.

It caught her momentarily off guard.

It startled her.

He needed her by his side for all eternity? He wanted her? 

He would be her equal?

She moved around his Creator towards his prison. She tilted her head slightly, staring at him thoughtfully. She was tingling...

What to do? 

He wanted her...

...by his side...

...for all of eternity...

His equal.

She walked towards him..to his prison...he watched her approach...the fear on his face...what to do...

Pushing aside the ropes and chains, she stepped into his prison...that she had made...she turned and smiled at Peter's Creator.

She had really only one option here. Allow his maker the joy of tormenting him with a second death, or...

She looked back at Peter, leaned down and kissed him softly.

When she straightened back up, she turned once more to his Creator.

"I am not his dominant, but..." She reached up and grabbed hold of the electric wire that ran the lengths or Peter's chains. She smiled slowly, almost lovingly, and yanked the wire free. She wrapped in round her slim wrist, dropped to her knees in front of him, placing the other end against his skin, and kissed him again.

"I love you still..."

Peter's eyes widened as the realisation of what his Creation was intending to do, hit him full force.

"My love..."

She smiled.

"I am not his dominant...but..." 

They both jerked violently as the jolt of electricity rippled through them. Peter's scream filled her ears, drowning out her own...

She wasn't the dominant.

She was the submissive.

Maybe now, his Creator would set him free?

The next jolt of electricity blew the dim light completely...sparks shot outward in all directions...their bodies hung limp from the chains, her hands nestled in his...

Maybe now...


	8. Chapter 8

Eyes narrowing, she watched the impetuous child of her creation attempt to destroy them both. Did she think that would work? They neither of them truly knew what they had within them. Sparks flew as the electricity flowed. There was a growing scent of burning fabric. In the flickering light she watched their bodies hang there. With a mental command, Carl returned to the crypt and it was his hand under her direction that cut the power at the panel. Another unspoken command and he was leaving them. His eyes were the only challenge to her as he walked past her. She reached a hand out to flick a nail across his cheek, slicing the skin to let a small stream of blood drip down his face. He didn't react but just left. 

He stirred first. Blinking his eyes in the blissful darkness, Peter felt her body against his but almost entirely still. 'What? Her.. ' He was confused and unsure. 

'Fool.' She hissed at him. Reaching up her hand gripped a number of the assorted chains and ropes. She easily tore them from the ceiling and allowed them to fall around the two weakened vampires. 

'I don't understand.' Peter was still chained and on his knees. 

'Do you truly not understand?' Her voice dripped with a dark note. 'Did I choose so poorly?'

'You chose me.' Peter agreed. 'You created me. You ...'

'Yes, I created you.' She glared at him. 'You created her.' Her leather clad foot was pushing against the Cryptmistress' limp leg. 'And I created a fool.' Her hands grabbed another handful of the cabling, more fell around him. 

'Why me?'

Her head went back, a laugh pealing through the room. 'Why you? Answer yourself, little one.' Her eyes locked to his as she used two fingers to easily pull down one of the thickest chains. 

Peter twisted his one hand round, gripping the chain in his fist. With a concentrated tug, it came out with a crack, landing hard on the Cryptmistress' backside. It barely stirred her from her stupor. He froze and looked at his Creator. With her arms crossed over her breasts, she watched as he turned his head to the other chain that held him there. A turn of his wrist, a furrowing of his brow and then, it crashed down as well. He remained on his knees but was gathering his creation in his arms. His creator's boot lashed out and kicked the Cryptmistress to the side. 

With a snarl, he found his body tightening up like a coiled spring but he didn't strike but was torn between wanting to scramble to his beloved's side and cowering before his Creator. Her boot landed in the center of his chest, tossing him backward even further away from his creation. Anger began to boil inside him as he laid a hand on his chest where she had kicked him. 

'Little one, are you learning now?' She taunted him, a finger crooking towards him to urge him on further. 

Peter leaned forward on one knee, as if readying to sprint towards her but he stayed still. He shook his head back and forth, the curled mop flashing silver in the dark. 

'Little one, you should have thought more before creating one anew. You can't even control yourself.' She was striding over to where the Cryptmistress lay, kneeling down to grab the woman by the hair and lift her from the concrete floor. Her lips were parted and in her unconscious state her fangs were down. His creator ran a finger over the small fangs, pressing her fingertip against the sharp tip of one and one drop of her blood oozed out. The limp figure stirred slightly, nostrils flaring at the scent of the old blood.

'NO!' Peter cried out at the sight of his Creator attempting to subvert his own creation by mixing her blood with his inside her. The coiled spring was released and he flew at his Creator. With a flash of her hand she struck him and he was once more thrown back and away, a loud crack from the wall and a soft shower of concrete bricks, he got back up. 

'Fool.' She snarled back at him. 'Do you think you can match me? Would you be my equal? Please try again.' 

Peter was breathing heavily and looking at her through lidded eyes. 'She's mine.' He hissed finally. 'Not yours.'

'You are mine, little one. Forgetting that are you?' She strode towards him and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him off the floor. His hands wrapped around her wrist in vain. 'Free from one set of chains, as you begged. But now, look at you, chained again.' She held him high and approached the huddled figure of his beloved on the floor. 'Is this what you would submit too? This weak little puddle of piss?' Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. 'Why should I free you when you would be even less than this thing! I wasted my blood on you, little one. Should have feasted on her!' A black-painted nail stabbed at the figure on the floor. 'She has more to offer than you.'

Peter struggled against his Creator's grip. 'NO!' The building tension inside him was finally let loose and he raised both legs up to kick at her stomach. It was enough to break himself free if only to just push her back a step and for him to fall to the floor, free again. He got to his feet again, arms raised to fend off what his Creator may do next. 

She drew a finger over her lips, watching him for a moment. Approaching him once more with a measured pace, she let her eyes run up and down his body. There was still just the slightest bit of trembling left in him. Her head turned slowly to his creation. Her little one was proud of his work, if not quite finished. Narrowing her eyes at him, her hand reached out to his and quickly grabbed his wrist tight before he could react. Her fangs tore deep into his arteries and he tried to spring back from her hurried drinking of his blood. 

'NO! NO! Don't!' He screamed out at his Creator. 'I don't want this to end!'

Her lips, covered in his blood, finally drew back from his wrist as he weakened before her. Her free hand snaked out to grab him by the neck and pull him close to her. 'What ends now, is this foolishness, little one.' Letting go of his still bleeding wrist, she raised her own to her mouth, ripping her own arteries open. 'Would you submit to anyone else but me?' Peter's eyes went wide at the blood she offered him. His mouth opened, tongue working.


	9. Choose Wisely, My Love

She lay against the far wall, dazed and confused. She could hear them arguing, quite close to her, yet it sounded so far away.

She cracked her eyes open a tiny bit, blinked a few times, and closed them again. As angry as they sounded, as pained as their words were, she simply did not care. Perhaps, she should do something? Perhaps, she should utter a sound?

No. It wasn’t her place to do anything. Let them argue. Let his Creator drag him down even further.

She simply did not care.

Or maybe, she cared too much?

Peter was, after all, her own Creator. Her loyalty lay with him in all things, or at least, it should have. His Creator was trying her best to change that, and Peter was resisting as best he could…his Creation, his beloved, was not faring so well in this endeavour. She lay against a wall, dazed due to his Creator’s violent outburst. All his Creator’s anger was being taken out on her.

She was not surprised by this, nor offended. It was a given really…if you created something, you literally protected it to the death. Was this not what Peter’s Creator was doing? Still, from the sound of things, this was not what was happening. It sounded, at least to her, as if his Creator was attempting to kill him…as if she were literally attempting to undo what she had created.

Poor Peter.

Cryptica…for that is what she called herself now…lay there listening, dreaming, remembering…reliving that night he had first come to her…

Remembering.

Peter Capaldi. Denizen of the Hangar. The reason the Biscuit Society existed. The reason they existed. The reason…

She looked up at the cold, dark stone ceiling above her, and cringed painfully. He had never known she existed, she had been so sure of that, being as he never came to visit her as he did the others. Never bedded her as he had the other women of the Hangar. Never…

She blinked.

Never?

Oh but he had! He had crept down those stone stairs on numerous occasions, and had watched her. Observed her in her natural surroundings…and, had pondered how best to approach her. 

Yet, she had not known this at the time, and had she known, she would not have believed it of him. He came and went like a shadow…his knowledge of her existence was limited to what he, and he alone, knew. She was in the Crypt beneath the Hangar. She was red haired, of slight build, mysterious…  
Beautiful.

And he kept all of that secret. He stayed away from the Crypt on purpose. He left her there until he would have need of her.

And then…

Peter made his first appearance in Cryptica’s domain not too long after he discovered she existed. That discovery was merely an accident, a slip of the tongue from one of his other women.

‘You haven’t had all of us, Peter…there is one other…’

He had stared at the woman for a moment, before putting questions before her.

‘Who is she? Why haven’t I seen her? Where does she reside in the Hangar?’

The woman had laughed.

“She lives below us in the Crypt. Not the usual type of woman you would seek out, Mr. Capaldi…”

Cryptica smiled in her hazy, dreamlike state.

Remembering…

Peter had smirked at this.

“How do you know what type I usually seek out? Maybe she is…”

Again, the woman laughed.

“I highly doubt the Cryptmistress would be your type.”

“Who? And, why wouldn’t she be? Do you even realise who, no…what, I am? My usual woman has most certainly changed, dear.”

Cryptica laughed to herself at this. Oh indeed that had changed. Peter’s usual woman was now just a food source…but those like herself…they were much, much more.

He came to visit her one cold, stormy evening. She had been playing with her ever faithful servant, Carl, trying out a new cage…one she had seen before, one she had recreated, and one she would eventually add to. Carl was a wonderful test subject, but the one Cryptica waited for, simply avoided her.

But not that night.

No, he came to visit her out of the blue. Peter had given into his natural curiosity…given into all his desires to see exactly who she was…

Cryptica turned her head towards the sound of her Creator’s voice. He was pleading with his Creator, but she wasn’t listening. He was asking for mercy for his beloved, and she was laughing at him. No mercy for the lesser of the three will be shown! 

Cryptica giggled. Everything went silent. She felt a hand brush her cheek.

She giggled again.

And again.

For a moment she thought of nothing, but soon her mind fled backwards to that night. To that night she first felt Peter’s hand brush her skin…

Carl had glimpsed Peter before Cryptica had. He was, after all, hanging in that cage and facing the stairs, so he would get the first glimpse of a descending god…

Cryptica giggled more.

Carl had nodded his head towards the stairs, and Cryptica, cat o nine tails in hand, turned to see what he was nodding at.

Her emerald eyes had grown wide in awe…or, was that shock? She had been so unsure…

“CHOOSE?! Your creation, or your Creator?”

Cryptica opened her eyes and stared at them. Would Peter throw her to the big bad wolf? Would he defend her?

Which would he choose?

Would he die again?

She watched him, a stream of admiration and love for her Creator flooded over her in that moment. If she had the strength to beg him to choose her, she would have…but all she had, was a memory that kept haunting her…one in which Peter had given, taken and taken some more. 

“CHOOSE, Peter! I created you, and I can undo you just as easily!”

Choose wisely, my love…

There was a moment of silence…

Cryptica had stared at Peter as he moved towards her. He was as gorgeous as ever, handsome and sexy…as always…yet something was not quite right about him…

He smiled and she saw that something. 

Tiny, razor sharp fangs winked at her from that beautiful smile.

Carl gibbered in fear from the cage. She shushed him with a quick flick of her whip across his chest. He whimpered and fell quiet.  
She tilted her head and stared at Peter.

Peter Capaldi.

Vampire?

It was quite obvious that he was vampire, and for just a brief second, Cryptica felt the urge to flee, but it soon faded…

Peter had her…a simple look…a smile…and oh those eyes! Blue with hints of green and gold…gazing lustfully at her…pulling her towards him as if she were but a fish on a hook!

How dare he! She was Mistress here! This was her Crypt, her domain…he was intruding on all that she held sacred…

She could have thrown him out.

Could have…

She could have had him removed.

Could have…

She could have screamed for help the second he touched her…

Could have…

But, didn’t.

He had walked calmly to the cage that held Carl captive, unchained him, and shooed him out of the Crypt as if he was nothing but a cat. Then, Peter had turned his haunting gaze upon her…

Could have.

Should have.

Didn’t.

He held his hand out to her as he stood within the confines of the cage, his gaze never faltering…his beautiful smile just for her…

Should have…

She found herself going willing right to him…placing her small hand in his larger one…his elegantly long fingers closing over hers…

Should have…

Didn’t…

“My darling…” He murmured as he pulled her close, his body pressed against hers…she was small…he was not…but he was beautiful…everything about Peter Capaldi now called out more loudly to her.

She shuddered in her dream state. Oh how she remembered his first touch. The very first moment his fingertips ghosted over her naked skin…

Should have…

Didn’t.

He had smiled that smile, pulled her closer, his long fingers threading through her hair and bent to place a tiny, oh so tiny, kiss upon her lips…

Should have…

Choose wisely, my love…

“You are mine, my love, my darling…” 

His lips trailed over her cheek and down her throat, lingering below her ear…she quivered…the tips of his fangs pricked her flesh easily…

Should have…

“Mine…forever…” He moaned softly against her neck, his hands kneading her back slowly…

Should have…

Been so easy…

Didn’t.

Wasn’t.

Cryptica sat up abruptly and turned her gaze towards her beloved and his Creator. Her emerald eyes narrowed to wee slits as she hauled herself to her feet, and began to make her way towards them.

Choose wisely, my love…

Should have…

She came up behind Peter silently, her hand snaking out to touch his back. He stiffened at her touch, but soon relaxed into it. He knew her…he knew her well…

His Creator’s eyes widened at the sight of her standing there. She should’ve been unconscious still…waiting to die at this blasted woman’s hands…

Should have…  
“Peter?” Cryptica stood on tiptoe to whisper against his ear.

He turned to look at her, a slight smile etched at the corners of his delicious mouth,

“Yes, my darling?”

Cryptica quivered at the sound of his voice, turned her gaze to his Creator and sneered coldly at her.

The woman sneered back in an equally cold manner.

“You won’t last long enough to hear him call you that disgusting endearment again! Come to think on it, neither of you will last much longer.”

Cryptica grinned slowly.

“Oh? Has he made his choice then?”

The woman laughed.

“He has, and he has choosen you.

Should have…

Peter grunted softly, slipped an arm about Cryptica’s waist and tugged her closer.

Just like that first night…

Should have…

“You should have chosen more wisely, Creator…” Cryptica pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Should have…but, didn’t…how stupid of you…”

Peter’s movement was so quick, even his Creator did not see it. His hand clenched her throat and began to squeeze tightly…

Should have…

How stupid…

Cryptica smiled warmly, lovingly at her Creator.

“Really should have paid him far more attention then you did.” The woman’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “Had you, you’d have realised just how great an actor he really is…”

The unconscious body of his Creator dropped to the stone floor with a sickening thud. Peter nudged it with his boot, and moved away.

“Unfortunately for her, she didn’t, my love…” Peter pressed his lips to Cryptica’s and kissed her deeply.   
Cryptica smiled against his lips and nodded.

“She really should have…”


	10. What Price for Love?

The strike had been quick but the damage done not as extensive as she was sure her creation would have wanted. Still holding back in his foolishness despite her words. Her tongue ran over her lips before she began to lift herself up from the stone flooring. There was an undertone of revenge in her breathing as stood to face the two. 

Peter had an arm protectively around Cryptica, tensing against whatever his Creator would attempt to do against him. 

'Such a waste of energy.' Her voice hissed at him. Her cold gaze turned to Cryptica. 'Love. Is that why you succumbed to his needs?'

'The best reason to do so.' Cryptica found her backbone and stood up to the older vampire's presence.

'Love is nothing, meaningless. Peter plays with the emotion still because he is yet new. The blood.. the hunger.. the need... that overrides all of the old mortal emotions. It's a lesson you both need to learn.'

'I already learned that from you,' Peter snapped at his Creator. 'And I think you're wrong. I think that if you had actually loved me and cared about me the way I needed to be from the moment you created me I wouldn't have come here and found Cryptica.' His hand gripped Cryptica's tightly. 'If that's the lesson you're trying to pound into me then you can stop. I don't want to pass that test.'

'And you think love will last the eons? Still exist after you've sucked dry the leavings of mortals to avoid attention? Or even after you've skulked about in the dark in search of the next hot-blooded victim? Then you are a fool, both of you. I'll be doing all of vampirekind a favour by destroying you both.'

'Try it!' Cryptica challenged her. 'Maybe you're just too old to really understand any more what it means to care! Just because you're a vampire doesn't mean you're heartless.'

She threw back her head, laughing loudly as it echoed in the Crypt. 'Caring is a joke, youngling. Will you care about the people that you pull into the dark alley and suck them dry of their life? Will you still care about him when the urge to become more powerful draws you to the pulse of blood in his veins to drink deep of them? How do you think you get stronger? It's not by growing old, youngling. You don't grow old. You drink deep. You drink and drink and feel the blood spread within you and feel it seep into you. And when the blood of mortals no longer makes you stronger you will turn to the elders and seek them out. And do you know what they will do to one such as you?' Her voice was chilling and mocking. 'They will crook a finger at you and beckon you to them where you will kneel before them and rip open your veins for them to drain you dry because they will command it of you.'


	11. Chapter 11

'I think you're wrong.' Cryptica's tone spoke of a confidence that Peter found incredibly arousing. 'You and all those vampires that came before you treat anyone not as strong as you simply as meals. You know you don't have to kill to feed. You can care. And when you care you become so much stronger than just what the blood gives you.' Her grip was tight on his hand, the two standing together as one to face his Creator down.

'What? Do you think the two of you would even come close to being a match for me?' The older vampire grinned chillingly. 'I do admire your willingness, little children, and perhaps in another century or five you may be able to do some harm to me.'

Peter looked at his Creator, it was tearing at him to have had her turn against him over Cryptica. 'Cryptica is right. Maybe you've been a vampire so long that you've lost any memory of what it was to care. Or maybe I thought that your choice of me to be your created child was out of some human notion of caring. From the day you gave me your blood gift, I've wanted to prove your choice was right. Not this! Never this!' 

The cold eyes of his Creator remained fixed on Peter, as if a ton of ice was all that was left of where her heart once was. 'You are even now still too young to understand. I wasted far too much time when I was young learning that caring and tender emotions are meaningless when you live for centuries. I teach you the way I wish I had been taught.'

'If that's the lesson you're teaching then I don't want to learn it!' Peter barked at her. He lifted his hand, still tightly held by Cryptica. 'THIS! I've learned this lesson and I'm going to live with her for eternity!'

'Then I chose wrongly.' His Creator strode forward, her fingers flexing in preparation of a strike against her child first. Cryptica would be no consequence for her to destroy. 'I thought you would be better than this, child. You have become a disappointment to me.'

Peter stiffened up, his resolve strong with Cryptica beside him. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her, his joined soulmate. Cryptica's gaze told him all he needed to know. She would be by his side no matter what the outcome. His Creator continued her approach towards the two of them but it was obvious that he was her intended target. Only then did he release his hold on Cryptica's hand, raising his hands to fend off whatever attack his Creator would turn on him. 

The only sound in the Crypt was the sound of her heels striking on the stone floor. Her lips parted and her fangs were completely down, her tongue ran over her lips as she approached them. She was pleased to see her child tense up, ready to respond. At least that much he had learned well. There was only a few feet separating them now and that's when she launched her attack, fingers outstretched and ready to grip her child's neck. Her plan was to throttle him, pull him to her and rip into the precious vein pulsing at his neck, ready for her to feed on.

Peter vaulted to one side, a hand pushing Cryptica away in the opposite direction. He anticipated that it would be him that she would focus on, not Cryptica. He was right. His Creator stopped easily to turn in his direction once more. The look on her face was as if she were a cat playing with a cornered mouse to kill at her own discretion.


End file.
